


silver and green

by happilyy



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, Harry Potter AU, M/M, connor really likes oliver, gracious use of a quidditch jersey, oliver is an adorable babe, this is just utter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilyy/pseuds/happilyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor takes the silence the wrong way and starts fumbling with the shirt in his grip. “I mean, I was sort of hoping you’d wear my jersey?” A nervous laugh. “Obviously, you don’t have to but I just thought-“ </p><p>Oliver cannot believe this is happening to him. </p><p>-</p><p>or the one where connor really likes oliver and just wants him to wear his quidditch jersey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	silver and green

**Author's Note:**

> this is just utter fluff. that's it. 
> 
> honestly, this was born out of the fact that i just got back from my vacation where i visited the wizarding world in orlando and my desire to have oliver wear connor's quidditch jersey because come on. how great would that be?
> 
> this was supposed to be some cute little thing and it kinda got away from me and turned out completely different from how i planned. meh.
> 
> anyways, hope this didn't suck too bad! it's mostly just for fun and my own desires :) also, it's not betaed so excuse any mistakes
> 
> enjoy!

Oliver never particularly enjoyed quidditch.

He didn’t really see the point in hitting a quaffle through rings, all the while trying to stay balanced midair on a broom. And there were the bludgers. Why would anyone want to try and dodge flying objects a number of feet off the ground?

Oliver didn’t particularly enjoy flying either. He still had nightmares of Madame Hooch and the flimsy school brooms from first year.

He was more the type to curl up with a book by the fire in the common room, while the rest of the school cheered on their team in the bitter weather down at the quidditch pitch. At least he wasn’t actively trying to catch a cold.

All of those opinions went flying out the window when Connor Walsh whirled into his life, quite literally on a broomstick hurtling towards the ground.

While Oliver didn’t like the sport, he found the pitch at practice time to be a nice and private place to get ahead on some of his readings for class. No one ever paid him any attention, bundled up and curling into himself in a small corner of the stands.

He had a routine: arrive before the house practicing that day, read the weeks worth of material, and leave before the team that day finished. Easy and simple.

One crisp fall day in sixth year abruptly dismantled his carefully crafted routine.

He was stealthily climbing down the stands, all the while glancing over at the Slytherin quidditch team. They seemed to be running a set of drills in the air, many of the athletes weaving back and forth.

He was just stepping off the stands and turning towards the castle when he heard a frenzied shout from behind. He barely had time to turn around before he was crashing to the ground, a broom flying to the side in his peripheral. A second passed before someone was scrambling to their feet, green and silver quidditch robes flopping in their haste.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry, that usually never happens.”

Oliver was faced with a boy around his age, hastily patting down his robes before offering him a hand.

Oliver could do nothing except stare. Because that was Connor Walsh.

Connor Walsh, who was Slytherin’s seeker, their most valued player. Connor Walsh, who was rumored to be one of the best quidditch players that Hogwarts had seen since Harry Potter.

Connor Walsh, who was extremely attractive and was staring at Oliver as if he was insane.

Oliver sprung up from the damp grass, ignoring the Slytherin’s outstretched hand. He could feel the blush creeping across the apples of his cheeks, though he could probably blame the bite in the wind. “S-Sorry,” he stuttered out, pulling his blue and silver robes closer to keep out the chill. “I got in the way.”

Connor chuckles before picking up his broomstick. It looked dark, sleek, and definitely expensive. Oliver found himself wanting to run his hand down the hilt, even though he had never really had the desire to be near a broom before.

“If anyone was in the way, it was me.” The Slytherin ran a hand through his hair before smirking at the other boy. “Do you often spy on quidditch teams during practice?”

Oliver flushes again, which would definitely give away that it was more than the wind leaving the blush on his cheeks. “N-No I mean, I l-like to read out here. It’s quiet a-and my common room tends n-not to be and-“

“Whoah, whoah it’s okay!” Connor holds his hands up as if Oliver is a frightened animal. Oliver doesn’t think his cheeks have ever been so red. He’s mortified. “I was just wondering why I’d never noticed someone as cute as you before.” The smirk is back on Connor’s face, along with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

If Oliver was flustered before, he’s definitely speechless now.

A minute of silence stretches between the two. Oliver is just opening his mouth to stutter out a reply and probably embarrass himself further before a yell is heard from across the pitch.

“Walsh! Stop flirting and get your ass back in the air!”

Connor hesitates a moment before sighing and mounting his broom. He kicks off the ground and hovers in midair for a second before turning back to Oliver. “See you later, Hampton.” He throws a wink over his shoulder as he’s zooming back towards his teammates.

It takes Oliver a full five minutes of dazed walking towards the castle for him to realize that Connor already knew his name.

From that moment on, Connor is everywhere. Oliver knew that he shared Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherin seeker before, but they always kept to their sides of the classroom. Now, Connor slides in next to Oliver almost every class period they share together.

He comes along with flirtatious smiles and thinly concealed innuendos. Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever blushed so much in his life.

They strike up a quick friendship, though Oliver is beginning to realize that it is quickly heading towards more than that. Connor has taken to sitting next to him at the Ravenclaw table anytime they’re in the Great Hall together. He always leaves a miniscule space between their thighs, and Oliver is going slightly crazy over the heat radiating off the seeker’s side.

They have more in common than Oliver could have ever imagined. Connor shares his passion for potions and even has a healthy appreciation for Muggle Studies, despite being as pureblood as they come.

Connor also constantly talks about quidditch.

Honestly, Oliver didn’t expect any less. The only thing that shocks him is that he doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would. Connor always seems so passionate and excited when he speaks of the sport he loves, and Oliver would be the last one to chase away the fire in his eyes.

Which is how Oliver finds himself being tugged down a corridor during the late afternoon on a Sunday.

He has a foot left to write of his Charms essay and has about three more readings to finish, but he was helpless to resist Connor’s pleading eyes when the boy requested he accompany him to the quidditch pitch.

All Oliver can really focus on is the warmth of the Slytherin’s hand in his.

They reach the pitch a few minutes later, and Oliver has begun shivering from the cold in the air. Connor smirks at him before accioing his broom.

Oliver gives the broom a look of apprehension. He isn’t fond of the way Connor is gazing at him at that moment. “Connor,” he starts slowly. “What are we doing?”

Connor’s smirk amps up a notch and he puts the broom between his legs. “Hop on.”

He shoots the boy a glare. “No way.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Ollie, come on!”

"Nope, nada, not happening. You never saw me when we learned to fly in first year. It was not pretty!” Oliver’s voice is edging on hysterical.

Connor looks considering for a moment before he grins and steps closer to the Ravenclaw. He reaches out and grasps Oliver’s wrist. “Please? You can hold onto me, I won’t let you fall.” The look Connor is sending Oliver’s way seems completely sincere and Oliver feels like the air has been punched out of him. “Plus, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of the best player in the school.”

Connor’s eyes are sort of mesmerizing, so he can’t be held accountable when he nods dazedly.

A minute later Oliver is gripping Connor’s waist for dear life as Connor kicks off the ground. Oliver’s stomach swoops and his eyes squeeze shut. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Oliver buries his face in Connor’s neck as the air whips around them.

“Ollie!” Connor sounds delighted and Oliver’s arms tighten unconsciously around the Slytherin. “Open your eyes!”

Instead of giving a verbal answer, Oliver shakes his head as they continue to fly higher. Connor smells faintly of parchment and apples and Oliver doesn’t want to move from the warmth of his neck.

Connor turns his head as they come to a stop. “Oliver,” he whispers. “Please, open your eyes. It’s okay.”

Oliver braces himself before moving his face from Connor’s neck. He aches at the loss of warmth.

He finds himself gazing at open air. It’s cloudy, and when he glances towards the ground, he observes that they’re quite high up. “Connor!” His voice cracks slightly, and he’s tempted to hide in Connor’s back again.

Connor chuckles and sends him a smile over his shoulder. “I won’t let you fall! Hold on!”

Before Oliver can even contemplate hiding again, the broom gives a lurch and they’re racing towards the Forbidden Forest.

They fly over the trees for a while, Connor attempting to be as smooth as possible so Oliver doesn’t become spooked again.

Despite his previous nerves, Oliver can feel himself relaxing. The air is dancing in his hair and his loose sweater is whipping in the wind. Connor is a solid presence at his front, all warmth and reassurance.

Feeling bold, Oliver hooks his chin over Connor’s shoulder and tightens his arms slightly. Connor gives a barely audible intake of breath.

“You know,” Oliver says, voice drifting on the wind. The stillness in the air is almost too perfect to disturb. “This isn’t so bad. At least, with you here.”

Oliver can feel the vibration as Connor gives a pleased hum. He bites his lip as he tries to hold back his smile, and instead buries his face in the Slytherin’s neck again.

Oliver doesn’t want this moment to end, doesn’t want to stop flying or get off the broom.

Soon enough, Connor is slowing down, angling back towards the quidditch pitch. Once they reach the ground and come to a stop, Oliver makes a split second decision. He can see Connor preparing to hop off his broom.

Oliver screws his eyes shut and drops a soft kiss on the seeker’s cheek. When he pulls back, he jumps off the broom and quickly wrings his hands before turning to gaze at the other boy.

Connor has a slightly dazed expression on his face, his broom held loosely in his hand. “What was that for?”

Oliver flushes. “Thanks for showing me that flying isn’t so bad.”

The beam that Connor sends Oliver is enough to make his heart start beating double time. The Slytherin laughs and reaches for Oliver’s hand, intertwining their fingers together.

“Thanks for coming along on the ride.”

* * *

A week later and Oliver is absolutely drowning in work.

He doesn’t remember the last time he left the couch in his common room. It was probably a day ago, seeing as he ended up falling asleep there.

He’s contemplating the perfect way to effectively bullshit his Charms essay when he hears a commotion outside of the common room door. A minute later and a group of first years walk in, giggling at something behind them.

Oliver gapes when he sees Connor sheepishly running a hand through his hair and walking towards him.

“How long were you out there for?”

Connor blushes. Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boy so embarrassed before. “A while. I didn’t get the riddle right, so I had to wait for someone else.” The Slytherin looks properly miffed that it was a group of first years.

Oliver can’t help but giggle. It’s only then that he notices the shirt Connor is holding in his hand. He glances up to see Connor fidgeting nervously and looking everywhere but at the Ravenclaw.

Oliver is curious. Confident, suave, and charming Connor has never so much as seemed embarrassed in front of him before. “What’s that?” he questions cautiously, pointing his quill towards the shirt.

Connor chuckles nervously and unfolds it. It’s only then that Oliver realizes it’s one of Connor’s Slytherin quidditch jerseys.

“Well, we have our first game against Gryffindor tomorrow. And I know you don’t really care for quidditch, but I was hoping you’d come watch?” Connor looks so hopeful that Oliver is speechless for a few seconds. Connor takes the silence the wrong way and starts fumbling with the shirt in his grip. “I mean, I was sort of hoping you’d wear my jersey?” A nervous laugh. “Obviously, you don’t have to but I just thought-“

Oliver cannot believe this is happening to him. Connor Walsh, arguably the best quidditch player in the school, is asking _him_ to wear his jersey to the match.

He’s so delighted that he bursts into laughter. Connor is so startled that he drops the jersey to the floor, eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights.

Oliver leaps up from his perch on the couch and snatches the jersey up into his hands. The smile he sends the Slytherin is so wide it hurts. “I could probably endure a quidditch match if I was wearing your jersey.” He takes a minute to turn the shirt over so he can observe the ‘WALSH’ emblazoned on the back in silver.

Connor breaks out into a beam, and he’s darting forward to plant a kiss on Oliver’s cheek. A second later he’s bounding out of the common room. “See you tomorrow morning!”

It isn’t anyone’s business but Oliver’s when he buries his face in the jersey to hide his smile.

* * *

An hour before the match the next morning finds Oliver walking to the pitch with his friend Laurel.

To his surprise, she’s not dressed in her usual blue and silver house colors, but is instead donning a green and silver scarf. It takes him a while to remember that her girlfriend, Michaela, is also on the Slytherin quidditch team.

Laurel raises an eyebrow at his attire but he just blushes and waves her questioning looks off. All he receives in return is a delighted laugh.

It was freezing outside, but Oliver didn’t want to hide the jersey. So, he slipped the green kit over a long sleeved shirt and added a plain green beanie to his head. He can almost feel Connor’s last name burning on his back.

Oliver realizes that the stares never stop. They all seem to be in awe of the jersey he’s wearing, and it only makes him happier. He’s the one wearing Connor’s jersey, not anyone else. Only him.

Oliver begins to sit up straighter in his seat when the players walk onto the field less than an hour later. As they start to warm up, Oliver can make out Connor searching the pitch for someone as he hovers in the air. When the Slytherin’s eyes finally land on him, he gives a small wave. Even from the distance, Oliver can see Connor’s face light up.

After the small exchange, Connor seems full of energy, running practice drills easily. He keeps sending glances over towards Oliver's direction and giving small smiles. Oliver can only dare to hope that the other boy’s burst of energy is in direct of result from seeing him.

The game starts off slow, the two teams going back and forth for the first few plays. Then, Slytherin scores their first ten points and the game takes a turn. The players are extra tense and the beaters seem to have it out for each other.

The house rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor had died down quite a bit since the Second Wizarding War. House rivalries were practically nonexistent nowadays, the only exception being between the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams. Being the two houses with the most wins provided for quite an amount of competition.

Oliver isn’t really paying attention to the game. His eyes are fixed on Connor, who is circling the quidditch pitch slowly, eyes searching. Oliver notices that neither Connor nor the Gryffindor seeker have caught a glimpse of the snitch yet.

Twenty minutes later and the game is halfway over. There’s still no sign of the snitch and Oliver has kind of lost himself by gazing at Connor. His green and silver quidditch robes are whipping in the wind, his hair still looking artfully styled despite the amount of time he’s been flying. His hands are gripping the front of his broom and Oliver’s mind flashes to other things those hands can do, running up and down-

Connor’s body jerks up, like an animal catching the scent of their prey on the wind. Oliver blinks once and then the Slytherin is diving towards the ground, a glint of gold shining in the late morning sunlight.

Oliver’s heart seizes in his throat. The speed at which Connor is going could quite possibly break his neck if someone were to knock him off balance. He notices that the Gryffindor seeker has caught sight of Connor’s movement and has flown right after him. Oliver is tempted to cover his eyes.

The other seeker pulls up right next to Connor and Oliver can see him leaning forward, trying to make his broom go impossibly faster.

“Go, Connor!” The yell bursts out of him before he can even comprehend what he’s doing. He claps his hands over his mouth and turns to find Laurel glancing at him with an expression of amusement and bewilderment.

In the blink of an eye, Connor reaches out and rears back up with his broom, barely missing the ground. The Gryffindor seeker isn’t as fast and goes sprawling painfully across the grass. Oliver winces in sympathy.

The pitch has erupted in cheers and its only then that Oliver realizes Connor is hovering in the air, the snitch held up proudly in his grip. His teammates fly towards him, all the while screaming and shouting about their victory.

Oliver is on his feet and cheering along with everyone else in the stands. His smile widens impossibly further when Connor glances towards the crowd and shakes the snitch in his direction. The butterflies in Oliver’s stomach have multiplied, and he’s sure his face is red for an entirely different reason then the cold.

A few moments later and the students have begun to file out of the stands, chattering excitedly about the party happening later that night in the Slytherin common room.

Oliver leaves Laurel to wander down towards the team’s locker room. He doesn’t feel right leaving without speaking to Connor first.

He receives a few knowing looks as players file out of the room periodically. They all glance at his jersey and send a small smirk his way, some whispering to their friends. Oliver feels inexplicably embarrassed.

“You Walsh’s good luck charm?”

He’s confused. “Huh?” he squeaks out, the small group of players giving him knowing glances.

One of the girls smiles and shakes her head slightly. “We haven’t seen Walsh play that well in a while. I mean, he’s amazing, but he’s never been that great. Must be because of you.” She’s gesturing towards the jersey.

They leave after a few seconds when they see Oliver is lost for words. Some of them are laughing good naturedly and one boy even gives him a salute before walking away.

When it seems like no one is left inside the locker rooms, Oliver catches sight of Connor walking towards him. “Ollie!”

Oliver grins and wrings his hands. “Connor! You were wonderful,” he gushes as the boy reaches him. “Granted, I was nervous for a few seconds there but you were amazing and-“

Before he can finish his sentence, Connor has cut him off and yanked him forward, a hand fisting in the front of his jersey. Oliver blinks once and then Connor’s lips are on his and his mind goes completely blank.

Oliver gasps in surprise before getting with the program. His eyes slip shut and he tangles his hand in the hair at the back of Connor’s neck, not caring about the tacky sweat he feels there. He gives a small moan of surprise when he feels Connor’s hands moving down to his waist.

Connor is kissing him. Connor just won his first quidditch game of the year and is kissing _him_.

After what feels like an eternity, Connor pulls back with a small nip to Oliver’s bottom lip. Oliver takes a few seconds to compose himself before slowly inching his eyes open. Connor is looking at Oliver in awe, a soft look of contentment painting his features.

Since he still isn’t capable of coherent thoughts, Oliver makes a small questioning noise and tightens his hand on Connor’s neck. The Slytherin smirks and rests his forehead against the other boys. “I couldn’t stand there and watch you ramble on in my jersey without kissing you.”

Oliver giggles and pulls back a little further to get a better look at the quidditch player. “So, I’ve heard that I’m apparently your good luck charm.”

Connor rolls his eyes and pulls him closer. “I guess that means you’re going to have to come to all my matches now.”

Oliver shrugs halfheartedly and leans forward to kiss Connor again. He has more pressing matters at hand.

* * *

Four months later and Oliver finds himself straddling Connor on the couch in the Slytherin common room, drunken quidditch players and students alike swarming the room in celebration.

The final match of the year had been played, and Slytherin was awarded the Quidditch Cup.

Oliver had stayed true to what Connor had said and attended every single one of his matches. His boyfriend had then proceeded to win every single one of those matches, catching the snitch faster each time

The Slytherin team suspected that it was all Oliver, being Connor’s good luck charm, as they continually insisted.

Oliver just likes to think that his boyfriend is naturally that talented at the sport, but he indulges them anyway.

“Mmmm, Oliver,” Connor breaths out as Oliver continues to suck on his pulse point. The room is full of people, and they’re probably being too affectionate in front of everyone, but Oliver can’t find it in him to care with the buzz of firewhisky singing in his veins. “Fuck, you’re horrible.”

Oliver pulls back and sends the boy a smirk. He knows his cheeks are flushed and his lips are swollen but Connor doesn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, he seems a little smug.

“My boyfriend just won the Quidditch Cup. Sue me for wanting to reward him.”

Connor moans as Oliver leans forward to capture his bottom lip between both of his. His breath hitches when he feels Connor’s tongue trace the inside of his teeth, warmth erupting in his belly.

Olive breaks apart from the boy and giggles at the disgruntled whine he receives. His boyfriend is really quite needy when he’s buzzed and horny.

“You know,” he starts, twirling a lock of Connor’s hair between his fingers. “This means I have to give the jersey back.” He finds that he’s actually quite sad about it.

Connor gives him a sad look before he perks up and sends him a devious smile. His arms tighten around Oliver while leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Quidditch season may be over, but I’m sure we can find much better uses for it.”

A thrill goes through Oliver at the words and his bottom lip slips between his teeth. “You’ll be lucky if I ever give it back,” he laughs out and goes to capture Connor’s lips again.

The seeker smiles between kisses. “I doubt I’ll be very disappointed."

Oliver never gives the jersey back.

**Author's Note:**

> don't know if this is really bad or not, not really satisfied with the ending but i thought i'd post it anyways.
> 
> if any of you read my surgeon!coliver au, i'm in the process of writing the second one-shot in that verse so heads up for that!
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated! thank you for reading!
> 
> you can follow me on tumblr at livhtwoods where i've been fangirling about malec and shadowhunters.


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